


Sweet Dreams

by Duarte89



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Multi, Post-Season/Series 02, Road Trips, Science Experiments, mentions of science experiments, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duarte89/pseuds/Duarte89
Summary: “So they escaped. That doesn’t sound like shit hitting the fan to me, Owens. It sounds like a goddamn miracle,” Hopper cuts in.“Fair enough. Except that the CIA Director himself issued a capture or kill order on them. That exposé those two lovesick teenagers did on Miss Holland’s death resulted in having the government put under the magnifying glass—”“Which they fucking deserve after all this shit,” Hopper interrupted with a growl.Owens put his hands up with a sigh, “—it puts the focus back on the Subjects that escaped. Including Jane.”And there it was, the shit hitting the fan. Hopper froze.-After the exposé, Congress issues a shutdown of all operations produced from Project MKUltra, including orders of containing any assets created from the experiments.Jane and Kali are not the only Subjects targeted by the command.[ Multiple OC's, pairings to be announced. Semi-regular updates ]





	1. In the Town of Elko

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's a new story. Still working on my 'The Pull' story. 
> 
> Many thanks to nightmara for editing this story <3
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

“What’s your story, gorgeous?”

Two laid on her back, dark tresses spread wildly across the rumpled sheets, and slowly dragged in a deep hit from her cigarette. The man was young, in that age where he could be anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five, clean and smelled of heavy cologne. He was her last john of the night and Two really didn’t need him asking her twenty-one questions about her past. She had spent the last five years escaping it, she didn’t need a bored man who thought he was in love with her bringing back distasteful memories.

Blowing out a thick cloud of smoke, watching with apathy as the tendrils thinned out into non-existence in the darkened room that smelled of musk and sex, Two took her time in turning to look at the man.

“Time’s up, Mister.” Two said with a low husky voice that had taken months to learn. She smirked, slowly, before placing the cigarette back in her kiss-swollen lips.

The man scowled but ultimately stood and started gathering his clothes. Two watched him, not bothered about the state of her undress —she had grown up without the self-consciousness of nudity which ended up working in her favor—, and slowly dragged on the cigarette all the while. As soon as the door closed Two lazily rolled off the bed and grabbed a thick bathrobe before headed for the bathroom.

Stepping into the bathroom, the only light from the cherry red end of her dwindling cigarette, Two breathed out the smoke from her nostrils as she flicked on the lights. Eyes squinting from the sudden explosion of light, Two spent a few seconds letting her eyes adjust before looking at herself in the mirror, smoke crawling up into the air and stinging her eyes.

Her skin was pale with the winter season, her hair a stark blackness that almost looked like an oil spill dripping down her shoulders, onto her chest and tapering off at her waist. Her muscled body was gleaming with drying sweat, the purpling bite marks and hickeys left by her customers slowly lightening to a sickly yellow. Two knew that by the end of the day they’d fade into a soft pink, and come morning it would be as if she’d never felt the pain of teeth digging into her flesh.

As if nothing had ever happened.

The embers of her cigarette burned down close to her lips, the heat stinging at the sensitive skin, and Two let the sting go for a second longer before taking out the finished butt and pinching the end with her fingers. The pain raced through her and Two sighed heavily before throwing it into the wastebasket and turning on the shower.

She spent most of the time washing the waterproof theater foundation off her tattoo. Her eyes were thrown into shadow as Two bent her head to see her soap covered thumb rub against the concealing chemical. Slowly, as the hot water flowed down from her crown and onto her face, the stark black ink starting to reappear.

**002**

Three little symbols that ruled her life. Staring at the numbers, lost in painful memories, Two ran her thumb over the ink scars softly before dropping her arm.

The past is the past, no use in thinking about it. With that, Two reaches for the shampoo and went to work on cleaning herself.

Finishing up, Two shuts off the water and steps out to put on the bathrobe hanging on the door hook. Walking back in the sex stenched room, Two roughly dries herself and pulls out her clothes from the armoire. Once dressed she walks out of the room, ignoring the sounds coming from the other occupied rooms as she makes her way down the stairs and to the Madam’s office at the back of the first floor. Bunny, the hostess stationed at the front, tries to catch her attention but Two pretends that she didn’t see the busty blonde waving almost frantically by the door.

Two knocks softly on the heavy black door of the Madam’s office and steps in when she hears the familiar voice giving her the go ahead.

Seated on a thick leather chair behind a mahogany desk is Madam Jezebel, a thickset woman with a wrinkled face slathered with pounds of makeup and dyed bright red hair. Dressed in a tight corset and flowing skirts, the Madam looks up from her accounting books with eyelids heavy with bright blue eyeshadow, her reading glasses sliding down her nose as she waves at Two to sit down with a raised thin penciled brow.

“Nine days up already?” Madam Jezebel asks the young quiet woman with wet hair and an oversized sweater.

“Yes, Madam.” Two answers quietly as she lowers herself down onto the comfy leather chair.

“That boy of yours is going to have a rough day today. Diamond’s monthly came in just now and booked her for the remainder of her days.” The older woman said with a quirk of her red lips, revealing slightly stained teeth.

Two grimaced at Three’s fate. Butterball, Diamond’s regular that was a bit overweight and a tendency to sweat a lot, always manages to leave a complete mess in the bathroom whenever he comes to visit.

Madam Jezebel finishes going over the numbers and closes her books before looking up to stare at the woman seated across from her.

When Two came into her life a few years back at the age of sixteen, the girl had barely a mop of dark hair on her head and a disturbingly stilted vocabulary. It had set off all kinds of alarms in the older woman when the girl just stared at the signs posted up about the brothel with no comprehension whatsoever to what they even meant. She had heard whispers about the girl, heard that the teen had been asking for work around town and being turned down left and right because of her young age and her obvious lack of education.

Jezebel, whose real name was Alice, had taken one look at the desperate look in the teen’s eyes and had pulled the lanky youth into her office.

Getting the story outta the girl’s mouth was similar to pulling blood from a stone. The sheer lunacy of the tale had Alice wanting to reach for the phone to call the police, but then the young girl had lifted the heavy mahogany desk as if it were a paperweight. She certainly believed right then.

Alice had stared horrified at the young girl before she caught sight of the tattoo. That horror turned into a great sadness. Alice had grown up during WWII and had read about the concentration camps, seen the terrifying pictures of skeletal prisoners with numbered tattoos marring their skin.

So, Alice had told the girl that she’d give her a job in the kitchens. Cleaning up there and that under no circumstances was she ever to go into the house proper.

Of course, it was later that Alice had learned of Three and Six.

Alice had an old cabin out by the edge of town that belonged to her client turned husband who passed a decade before. Gifting it to the three siblings, all with growing hair and hungry eyes and tattooed arms, Alice had taken them under her wing. Three was pulled into cleaning along with Two while Six was left with Alice’s brother, Bill, at his junkyard.

A couple of years passed by, the siblings still terribly quiet with watchful eyes, before Two approached her and said in her careful way that she needed more money for food. Out of all of them, Two, Alice noticed, had a ravenous appetite. Three and Six ate normal enough, but the majority of the money that the siblings earned was spent mostly on keeping Two well fed.

Alice knew that the three siblings had no paperwork whatsoever, had no schooling to speak of and sat speechless as her mind raced with what she could do to help them.

It was then, while Alice sat staring ahead in thought, that Two had stepped closer and laid a hand on her shoulder, no judgment in her eyes when she asked to be one of her girls. Alice had to stifle the urge to slap the newly turned eighteen-year-old for even saying such a thing. The only thing that stopped her was seeing the resolve in the young girl's eyes.

Alice knew how the other brothels in town worked. How ruthless they were to the girls there, seeing how Alice had climbed up from being a working girl herself. She kept on working until she was able to set up her own brothel with no pimp to work her girls to the bone. Alice wanted to be better than the other brothel's.

Didn’t make it any less sordid than what it was, but Alice prided herself on having a brothel that looked after the girls and enforced the rules not with harsh punishments- but with forced time off. The girls lose a day of work, they lose hundreds of dollars. No threats, no pain, no pimp, and no humiliation. Alice would suspend them from the house and let the pay cut from not working do the talking.

Needless to say, it works.

Alice’s brothel is a small operation that had seen hard days, but after going hungry herself for months in order to keep her girls fed her brothel was in the green and had a steady clientele. Mostly an older crowd, long-established bachelors and a few young stallions. Her place wasn’t as big as the other houses in town, but Alice took comfort that at least in her establishment her girls weren’t abused.  

It was with that thought that lingered and sent a cold wave through her that Alice knew that if she said no to Two, the girl would leave and go to another brothel. What else could a girl with no history, a girl that didn’t exist do? This was Elko, where prostitution was legal and required legal paperwork for anyone wanting to work in the life.

That was what made Alice relent.

There were too many questions that couldn’t be answered about their background. Questions about their tax forms, their lack of social security cards and medical records for their check-ups. It would be a disaster, Alice knew. At least with her, Two and her siblings would be protected from the men seeking them; their little town knew all about the suits that came in years earlier searching for ‘enemies of the state’. Even if Two wasn’t what one would call ‘normal’, she was still just a young girl. How could she be an enemy of the state?

So, Alice did what she thought best at the time and used her connections to ease the way for the siblings. Money to hush up the town officials, favors called in and favors done in order to keep the siblings off the books.

It had broken her heart but Alice had gone through the rules with Two, giving her nine days out of two weeks to see clients. Had fought tooth and nail to get Two to agree to see a doctor every month, swearing to always be at the visit with her to make sure the doctor didn’t try anything.

From sixteen to now twenty-years-old, Two looked healthy but unhappy. Alice felt weary at the sight, knowing that she was useless in the face of that emotional void. Alice didn’t know what she could do to make the young woman happy, and that was the greatest failing that Alice could ever have done to her own pseudo-daughter.

Alice sighed, “You know that you can quit whenever you want, Two. Three can keep on working and I’ll keep you on but as my protege. No more johns.”

Two, who had been staring at a picture of Bucktooth Bill smiling widely by a rusted up pickup, glanced at the older woman with a sly grin. “I don’t need saving, Madam. We both know that this is the safest I’ll be from them. No one wants to be associated with a whore.”

Alice shook her head, “They haven’t been around asking for years.”

Two’s grin turned bitter, “You underestimate them, Alice. If they even hear a whisper of me, of Three or Six, they’ll come with their men and their guns.”

Alice closed her eyes tightly, the smell of hairspray and cloyingly sweet perfume turning her stomach in a way that hadn’t happened since she was a girl of sixteen spreading her own legs for money.

She slowly sighs before opening them to get the sealed envelope in her drawer. “Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. Stubborn as a damned mule. Here, your pay.” Alice said with a resigned smile as she threw the envelope.

Two caught it lazily, eyes back on Bill’s picture as she slid her bundle of pay inside the waistband of her sweats. “How’s Bill?”

Alice looked at the picture of her brother and scoffs, “That idiot’s still laid up in bed with a cold. Six’s been managing the junkyard for him, but you know how he is. Damn man could never sit still.”

Two hummed before standing up and waving at Alice, “I’ll see you next Thursday, Madam.” She said in parting before closing the door behind her.

“Put on a damn hat! It’s cold out there, you fool!” Alice shouted, knowing that Two would be able to hear her from behind the closed door.

Two rolls her eyes and takes out a beanie from her pocket and pulls it down her head. Nearing the exit, Two hears her ‘name’ being called and stops to finally see what the hostess has been wanting to tell her since she left her room.

Bunny, a woman that was undeniably an aging beauty, walks up to her with an excited smile, “Roxie, word on the street is that your soldier boy is coming to town in a few days!”

Two shrugs dispassionately at the news, “Won’t be working. Maybe Cherry would be willing to take him.”

The bright smile from full lips drops as Bunny gives her an impatient look, “Honey, that boy’s been coming back here since you first started. Don’t be stupid, he can be your ticket out.”

Two shrugs again, raising a brow at the older woman, “Who says I’m trying to get out of here?”

Bunny’s sleek brows furrowed deeply into disbelief, “How can you not? No one wants to be a whore forever.”

Two scoffs lightly before sucking on her teeth, “I’ll stop when I need to. Besides, soldier boy is a client and that’s all he’ll ever be. Understand?” Two sent the older woman a searching look, wanting Bunny to understand that she would never attach herself to anyone, much less anyone from the military. It was too dangerous, not that Bunny knew that of course. Let the other woman think it was the disenchantment of a whores life that made Two sound like a cynical woman three times her age. It made for an excellent cover.

Bunny’s lip thins in distaste, “Your loss, Roxie. I don’t wanna hear your bitching when he leaves you for Cherry.”

Two watches in dry amusement as Bunny turns away with a flourish that had her skirts flaring dramatically around her long legs. She didn’t care if Cherry gained her regulars, anyway. There were always more men wanting an easy fuck that ensured that Two would get paid.

Two breathes in deeply as she steps out of the brothel’s warm walls and into the biting cold of Elko, Nevada. The cold air stings at her lungs and shocks an awareness into her system that made Two ache for a steaming cup of coffee.

Dithering for a minute, Two turned her heavy boots in the direction of the diner and let the sound of her footsteps fill her mind. Soon she was pushing open the glass door, bell chiming out to alert the waitresses of a new customer, and headed to a seat at the counter. Sliding onto the aging faux red leather stool, Two nodded a greeting to Agnes and gave a grunt of thanks as the older woman placed a cup in front of her and poured hot coffee.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Agnes said in her smokers rough voice, piling creamers and sliding a small container of sugars towards the young woman.

“You’re a lifesaver, Agnes.” Two said as she grabbed a creamer.

Agnes cackles a bit before pulling out her small notepad, “Sweet talker, save it for the johns. Now, what’ll you have?”

“Two orders of the breakfast specials, and keep the coffee coming.” Two said as she fixed her cup.

Agnes wrote down the order, her initial surprise of the girl's big appetite worn down by the passing years, and tapped her pen onto the counter before she left.

Two took a sip and felt her muscles unwind at the taste of strong caffeine. It wasn't long after that that Agnes was putting down her food and giving her a wink before walking down the aisle to service a couple sitting further in the diner. Two dives into her meal and it wasn’t until she was stuffing the last piece of pancake in her mouth that she acknowledged Jerry, who had come in minutes earlier.

Jerry was the son of Bunny, born of a john that had left Bunny high and dry after she told him that she was pregnant. This, of course, happening before the pharmacies here would sell condoms to Alice because she was a woman with no clear pimp in charge. Jerry was a year older than Two, taller and muscled thickly by working at a farm a few miles out.

“You stink of manure.” Two said as she eyes him from the side.

Jerry grins playfully, “Didn’t stop you from devouring your plate.”

Jerry signals Agnes and puts in his order before looking back at his friend. He had found out by sheer dumb luck that her real name was Two, which was odd, to say the least, and then found out that Two was a superhuman and her siblings were just as weird.

“You got your couch potato sweats on, just finished your shift?” he asked before taking a sip of his black coffee. Jerry had grown up in the brothel long before Two and her siblings had ever come into town. It didn’t matter to him none that his best friend was a professional whore. Hell, his Mama was one for years and she’s the most hardworking and loving woman that Jerry’s ever known.

Two nodded, thanking Agnes when she walked by and silently refilled her cup. “Yeah, got a mouthful from Bunny.”

Jerry groaned, “Not again.”

Two shrugged. It was an ongoing joke between the two that Bunny wanted to set Two up with the soldier that drove hours up from Hawthorne just to see her.

“You need to talk to her.”

“Oh no,” Jerry said shaking his head, “last time I brought you up Mama asked a million and a half questions. Roxie this, Roxie that. I swear, just because I taught you how to read and write doesn’t mean that I have any actual sway over you.” Jerry said with exasperation.

Two smiled sweetly, “Jerry, your opinion matters.”

“Of course it does, but I’d be a fool to think that I can actually force you to do anything. Mama just doesn’t seem to understand that.” Jerry bemoaned with a sad sigh. “Seems all she remembers is you looking like Oliver Twist and acting like a damn heathen. Seems to think that since I taught you how to speak like a normal person that I’m somehow responsible for you.” Jerry said with a fond grin. “I love you, but I’m sure as shit not going to take on that foolhardy mission of being your keeper.”

Two patted his meaty shoulder, “That’s why I love you, Jerry. You’re a good apple.”

Jerry said nothing since Agnes was coming with his steak, and when he was sure no one could hear him leaned close to his friend of four years. “Does that mean you’ll pay for my meal, Two?”

Two snorted and poked him on his side, laughing at his muffled shriek. “Jerry, I am a working woman. I need all the money I make to feed my family.”

Jerry rolled his eyes, “Ah yes, the family. How is Six, by the way? Still a grease monkey?”

Two’s smile softened, “Yeah. She’s what Bill calls a ‘natural’. She’s covering for him, actually.”

“Heard he was laid up with the flu. Make sure Six doesn’t get too close.” Jerry said, cutting into his steak. “Don’t need both of them laid up.”

Two’s grin sharpened, “Is this before or after I sing your praises to her?”

Jerry chokes and beats his chest, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he gasps for air.

“Shut up.” He hissed once he got his breath back.

Two made a show of zipping her lips close before giving a small smile. The two friends fell into a comfortable silence after that. It wasn’t until Agnes came around with the bill, Jerry acting put-upon as he paid his and hers, that the friends stood.

“C’mon, you gluttonous woman, I’ll take you home.” Jerry said as he pulled on his jacket and beanie.

Two bumped his shoulder, “Thanks, Jerry. You know, if you ever wanted to make a move, I’ll support you.”

Jerry blushed, telling himself it was because he had left the warm diner to the bitter cold that put color on his cheeks.

“Thanks, it means a lot to have your approval," Jerry said softly, green eyes flickering down to the snow mushed covered sidewalk, “But Six...she barely turned eighteen last week. What does she know of the world? She only knows of Elko and thinks of me as her sister’s dorky friend who ripped his pants that one time three years ago.”

Two bit her lower lip, “Jerry, you’ve changed since then. You’re practically a different person!” She said loudly as she flung her hand at him.

It was true.

When the two of them first met —Two and Three being sixteen and Six being fourteen—, Jerry had been a gangly mess of limbs. Now at the age of twenty-one, Jerry was thick with muscle and had a heavy beard covering half his face. It wasn’t until the men from the Beowawe Lab had come into town asking about the three teens that Jerry had proved his loyalty. He had given just enough accurate descriptions of them and had led the men away from Elko, all the while Two, Three and Six hid under the floorboards in the brothel’s kitchen.

It was impressive hearing Jerry loudly proclaim his patriotic pride in helping the government all the while the three of them hid right beneath their feet. Two had even believed his rousing speech and had prepared herself for a bloodbath until the other teen sent the men on their way.  

“Either way, it don’t matter none. I’m not going to force anything.” Jerry said with a raised brow as he got into his pickup.

Two got into the passenger seat and gave her friend a look, “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.” Jerry said with a grin as he pulled away from the diner.

The drive was spent listening to the radio and when Jerry pulled up to the cabin, smoke was already rising out of the chimney. Two looked at Jerry and huffed at his ridiculous lovesick expression. “Sure you don’t want to come in?”

“I stink of manure.” Jerry lamented. “I’ll come by later, now get.”

Two got out and closed the door, waving goodbye before trudging up the walkway. She heard the roar of Jerry’s truck pulling away and back into town as she opened the door.

“Was that Jerry?” Six asks hopefully as she stirred a pot on their wood stove oven.

Two rolls her eyes at the second set of the lovesick idiots. “Yeah, he smelled like cow poop.”

Six looked at Two from over her shoulder, wondering if Two was lying. Seeing the truth in Two’s dark eyes, Six sighed with a droop of her shoulders. “Shame, I made his favorite.”

Two pulls out her pay from her sweatpants and walks to the porcelain jar that's shaped like a cat. Tearing open the envelope, Two takes out the thick roll of hundreds and stuffs it inside the cat jar.

“Bill any better?”

Six nodded, her haphazardly done bun staggering dangerously at the movement. “Cough’s gone, just has the sniffles now. I worked on Ol’ Keith’s tractor today. I swear I have no idea what the man does to it. Every other month he’s pulling into the yard with it being towed.”

Two hummed as she pulls off her beanie and scratches her scalp.

“How long ‘till Three comes home?” Six asks, her eyes catching the light from the fireplace. The fire made the brown of her eyes look bright, softening the scar on her face that led up to her hairline.

“Diamond has Butterball coming in, so maybe another two hours or so.” Two said as she walks to the small wooden table. Two smiled at Six when the younger girl pours her a big bowl of beef stew, already hungry again since the diner.

Two and Six ate quietly, both content with the silence as they ate the warm stew. Hours later, both seated on the armchairs that had smelled of dust for months in the beginning but now smelled faintly of lavender, they both jolted in surprise as Three came barreling into the cabin.

Two shot up to her feet, book forgotten as it fell to the floor. Six stayed seated, eyes bug-eyed at Three’s panicked look.

“I saw _him._ ” Three said shrilly.

Six shuddered hard, eyes closing tightly in fear.

Two clenches her hands tightly as every muscle pulled taut. “How much time do we have?”

Three shook his head rapidly, the flannel trapper hat that Bill had given him years ago nearly flying off his head. “No, no. Not _here_ , not _now_.”

Two let out a breath, closing her eyes briefly before flashing them open again. “Calm down, wipe your nose, and tell me everything.”

Three mindlessly passes the back of his hand under his nose, his glove wiping away the trail of dark red. “I was finishing up Diamond’s room and nearly cracked my skull in the tub when the vision came.” Three said as he let Two lead him to the armchair. “It was him, the Director. He was talking to Pa—”

Here Three stopped with a wince, feeling the heat of Two’s glare.

“So,” Two hissed cruelly, “that bastard is still alive.”

Three nodded meekly at the face of Two’s rage. “Yeah, and it sounded like he was even further down the Director’s esteem.”

Two breathed in deeply, exhaling roughly through her nose and nods sharply at Three. “Go on.”

Three swallowed nervously, “The Director was talking to Brenner and some others I couldn't see, saying that they couldn’t handle another exposé. Said he had Congress ‘breathing down my neck’ to shut down all operations or else. He told Brenner that the labs were being shut down and all data was to be dumped. Brenner then said that they couldn’t allow their valuable work to be flushed down the toilet, not with the discovery in Indiana.”

He paused with a soft sigh, hands shaking, “I don’t know what that meant, but it made the Director mad. The Director said that Brenner had already lost two Assets, adding to his most recent loss of Assets was even more reason to shut down the program. He said that Brenner was hanging on by a thin rope and his remaining goodwill. Brenner looked furious but shut his mouth."

Three pauses again to look at Two with a pinched look on his pallid face, "...The Director went on to say that Kilmore was going to coordinate with Worthington and Mathers in collecting the Assets."

" _What_?" Two says in a furious whisper. Three just nods his head and continues on.

"If the Assets proved too much resistance, then they had orders to kill on sight. Brenner asked where they should start, and the Director opened his mouth but then Diamond was banging on the door and the vision faded.” Three finishes before slumping onto Two's chair, his shaggy red hair slick with sweat.

Two cracked her knuckles as she begins to pace, “We need more information. We can’t stay here.”

Six stared at the fire in despair, pushing back tears before she spoke. “I can go back.”

Two froze, “Excuse me?”

Three turns to her with a stunned look, “Are you insane?!”

Six shook her head, “I can phase in and out before they know what hit them. Three hasn’t worked on getting a read on Mathers in years. We don’t have the time for him to get it back up and running. I know the layout, remember it as if it was yesterday. I can go in, grab whatever I can get my hands on, and get out.”

“No.” Two said curtly as she shook her head.

Six stood with determination building in her chest, “I can ask Jerry to smuggle me across. He has to drive by there to get to the farm, they won’t think nothing of his truck passing by at odd hours. I’ll hide in the truck bed and go. An hour tops before he comes back and I’ll phase right back in the truck!”

Two hurries over to grab Six’s shoulder’s in a soft grip, “You are not going back there, understand? None of us are!”

“We need more information! I can get it for you, dumbass!” Six yelled back.

“Guys,” Three said as he felt another vision coming on.

Two turns to look at Three sharply, watching as his blue eyes started to redden and blood started to drip down his thin nose. She stayed quiet, Six just as quiet next to her, the both of them watching as Three’s eyes become hazy and unfocused. They stand in eerie silence in their cabin, the soft pops of the fire echoing through their home until Three gasps back into the present.

“Kansas. Delaware City. Subjects Seven and Nine, farm, Leavenworth.” Three said weakly, two visions laying him out like a suckerpunch to the head.

Two breathed in slowly before turning to a frowning Six, “Okay. They’re starting in Kansas. We need to go before they catch Seven and Nine.”

“Whoa, hold up!” Six yelled, gripping Two’s arm tight. “We should be making our way to fucking Mexico, not halfway across the country to freakin' Kansas!”

Two frowned heavily at Six, the shadows created by the fire darkening her scowl dangerously. “What are you saying, Six? That we should leave Seven and Nine to the Lab’s mercy? They’re one of us!”

“We don’t know them! We don’t owe them anything!” Six screeched as she cried.

Two huffed out her disbelief, “Six, we owe them our protection. We know that the suits are coming for them, we can help them! How can you turn your back on them?”

Six said nothing for a moment before kicking her chair with a growl. “Because what if they turn on us? What if they hand us over to save their necks? We don’t know what we’re walking into by helping them.”

Two's hard eyes soften at that. She reaches over to cup Six’s wet cheeks with gentleness. “That was the same thing I thought back at the Lab about you and Three. After what happened to One, Four and Five I took a risk on you two anyway when I decided to jump ship.” Wiping away Six’s tears Two gave her a loving look. “I’ve never regretted it since.”

Six’s face twists in pained expression before nodding hesitantly.

“Thank you. If they do end up turning on us, I swear to you that I’ll kill them.” Two vowed gravely, before dropping her hands from her face and turning to look at Three. “How far ahead did you see?”

Three looked drained, his skin practically bone white from the stress of his visions. The redhead slowly looks up at her with exhausted eyes. “Two weeks.”

Two nods slowly before pulling out her beanie and tugging it swiftly on her head. “Three, rest until you can walk straight on your own. Six, grab all our stuff, load up the truck and close up the cabin. I have to talk to Alice, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Three nods as he shakily pulls himself out of the chair and stumbles his way to the only room in the cabin. Since he is the least combat gifted of the group compared to Two's strength and Six's stealth, it was decided that the room would be his. If they ever were attacked and cornered, they’d have to get through Two first while Six phased him and herself out the cabin and to the back where they had a hidden car.

Six grabbed Two’s arms with a firm grip, eyes wild, “If you see Jerry…”

Two nods, “I’ll tell him you said bye.”

Six scrunched up her nose, fighting off a fresh wave of tears, before nodding. “Yeah.”

Two walks out the door of her home and, with a deep breath, put on a burst of speed and ran. Feeling the blood pump through her veins, the stretch of her muscles going to their full extent made Two breathless as her surroundings passed by her in a blur. As the lights to Elko grew brighter, like a cluster of stars, Two slowed down to a jog at the dark turn of an alleyway and felt winded.

Damn, she had let too much time pass without training. She needed to change that immediately.

Two took a moment to catch her breath before leaving the shadows in a calm gait and into the bright streets of Elko. Breath steady, she stalked down the busy sidewalk until the bright red light of the sign of a brothel shined on her face. Two looked at the sign, _The Naughty Kitty_ , and couldn’t help but feel sad that this would be the last time she would ever see this comforting sight again.

Shaking her head, Two stomps into the brothel with a mask of cold determination. She barely glances at a bewildered Bunny and continues to march towards Alice’s office despite the hostess’ worried questions. Opening the door with a firm jerk, Two sees an old man sitting across from Alice, bespectacled with a faded tattoo on his wrinkled neck and a look of surprise on his scruffy face at her sudden appearance.

“Wasn’t that door locked?” The man asked with a growing frown.

“Get out.” Two ordered, eyes cold as they settled on the startled man.

“Y-yes, right, well, we can talk about this later, Madam Jezebel. I’ll call you.” The man said quickly, the promise of violence in the young woman’s eyes sending a chill down his spine. He shuffles around her still figure and hurries to the door.

“What happened?” Alice said quickly, worry growing in her as she watches Two slam the door shut.

“We’re leaving. The suits are making moves soon and I have to pull us out of here.” Two said as she rounded the table with sure steps.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. How did they find you?” Alice asked as she jumps to her feet, turning around and pulling down the portrait of flowers and revealing a safe. She spun the dial quickly and unlocked the safe, pulling out a thick manila envelope amongst the other packages stored inside. Alice wasted no time in shutting the safe and locking it again before hanging the portrait back.

“Not us. Just found out from a source that they found more of us, Seven and Nine. We got maybe a week lead on the Lab, but I need to go and make sure they’re outta there.” Two said before pulling off her necklace, a silly little thing that she had bought for herself when she started cleaning the brothel at sixteen. Despite that, the necklace meant the world to her and Two gave it to Alice with slight reluctance.

“I can never repay you for what you did for us.” Here, Two’s voice wavered as her eyes stung with tears.

Alice grabbed the necklace tightly in her hands, trembling slightly from the force of her emotions as she hands over the manila envelope. “I made you a whore," Alice said brokenly, a tear falling down her powdered cheek in a dark line from her mascara, "Don’t you dare thank me for that."

Two grabbed the envelope, not looking at what it held as she hugs Alice with a loving softness. “You didn’t make me anything. I came to you about it, I made the decision. So don’t you ever feel guilty.”

Alice shook her head but said nothing, just focused on hugging Two as tight as possible. “You be safe out there, Two. You keep Three and Six outta trouble, ya hear?”

“I will, Alice. I swear.” Two said gruffly. “If anyone comes by—”

Alice pushed back with a firm pat on Two's shoulder, “Darling, I got it handled. You just worry about keeping yourself alive. You call me when you can, that understood?”

Two wiped a tear off her face with a shaky sigh, “I swear.” Hugging Alice once more, burning the smell of sweet perfume in her memory, Two finally pulled away. “I gotta go.”

“Go, be safe.” Alice said as Two walked out just as fast and as suddenly as she came in.

Minutes later, Bunny swept in through the broken door with a look of alarm on her fair face. “What happened, Alice?”

“Nothing, Beatrice. Roxie, she’s just leaving town.”

Bunny, real name Beatrice, looked back the way Roxie left with anxious concern, “She in any trouble?”

“Nothing she can’t handle.” Alice said before going to the mirror and fixing her makeup. Wiping under her eyes, Alice looked at the other woman from the mirror with a stern glare, “Anybody comes by sniffing around, you tell them one whore is the same as another.”

Beatrice bit her soft lip but ultimately nodded. “I hear ya, Alice.”

“Good. Now then, let’s go back to business.” Alice said as she slipped on the still warm gold chain linked necklace, the gold-encased pink quartz laying just above her breasts. She'll guard it with her all until her solemn girl comes back home safe and sound.

Outside in the cold night of Elko's busy nightlife, Two was speed walking down the main street with a harsh frown on her face. Despite it being almost two in the morning the streets were filled with people enjoying the night out in the busy dens of brothels and bars. Two was about to push past a pair of giggling drunks to get to the shadows of an alleyway in order to run back to the cabin when a truck came speeding down to a stop next to her, surprising her to a stop and startling the two men into tripping against the brick wall. The men grumble and curse before pushing off the wall to stagger done the sidewalk again. 

Two felt her heart race, hands turning into fists before sputtering at the sight that greeted her once the window of the driver side rolled down.

“Jerry?” Truth be told, Two wasn’t going to even say anything to Jerry, despite Six's desperate plea. It was safer that way, less painful, for the both of them.

“Get in.” Jerry said looking disheveled.

“Jerry, now is not a good time. I—” Two said before Jerry cut her off with a harsh glare.

“Mama called me. Said you looked like a ghost when you went into work. Said you came back out looking worse. Said you were _stepping out._ Now I know I’m not the smartest man in the world, but by God, I was born with a lick of sense. You three have no papers. What are you going to do if you’re pulled over? Fight your way out!?” Jerry all but yelled, shocking Two into silence.

“It’s a huge risk to travel without any IDs. You may or may not get caught, but do you even want to risk it?” Jerry asks with a pinched worried look that turned into a fierce look of determination. “You’re running from something that’ll catch onto your scent quick for a stupid mistake. So I am telling you to get your ass in the truck. You need to get gone? No problem. I’ll be the driver. So get in.” Jerry said tightly, looking stern even with his shirt unevenly buttoned up and his beard unbrushed.

Two said nothing for a second before throwing her hands up, “Alright! Let's go.” Jumping into the truck, she barely had the door closed before Jerry was peeling out and racing out of town.

They came to a screeching halt in front of the cabin, startlingly Six and Three as they hauled out duffel bags and trash bags. Two jumped out and quickly examined their things, Jerry coming out to load up his truck with their things.

“Mama said that she and Madam Jezebel would handle the cabin first thing in the morning. Have Bill set up shop here to ward off any talk.” Jerry said as he opened the back door to let Six and Three in.

“Jerry, you don’t even know what you’re getting into. Trust me when I say that you do not want to be involved in this. Stay here.” Three pleaded, pale blue eyes red-rimmed with stress.

Jerry shook his head, “No can do, Three. C'mon, get your ginger behind in this truck and you can tell me on the way just how big of a fool I am.”

Six grabbed his hand with a hard squeeze, “Jerry, this is serious. You could die.”

Jerry looked at their joined hands and covered them gently with his own, drinking in the sight. “You can’t make me change my mind even if you tried, Six. You’re in trouble and I can help, and if I do die...well, what a way to go. Protecting the ones I love.” Jerry looked up as he spoke, green eyes glinting with resolve to protect them— to protect her.

Six sniffed and gave him a tight nod, aware of Three and Two looking at them with sympathy before stepping back and climbing into the truck. Three followed her in and gave Jerry a grateful smile as the older man reached over to close the door.

Two climbed into the passenger side and closes the door shut with a careful jerk. She gives the cabin, her home for five peaceful years, a final look to burn it into memory before turning to look at Jerry as he gets in and clicks his seat belt on. “You sure about this?”

Jerry looks at Two with a searching gaze. Saw how pinched her eyes looked, how tightly she held herself and nodded. He shifts the gears out of Park and into Drive, “So, where are we going?”

“Leavenworth.” They said in tandem.

“Okay,” Jerry said slowly as he drove down the path away from the cabin and the town of Elko, “and where is that exactly?”

“Kansas.” Three piped up from the back.

Jerry whistled with a wry grin. “There’s no place like home.”

Two ignored Jerry's comment in favor of looking out the window. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass as the lights of Elko grew dimmer and dimmer, the only semblance of 'home' fading in the distance behind them. Two had thought that she could live out her days in Elko, hidden and safe. She should have known that it could have never had lasted.

They would never be safe...not until every single person associated with the labs were neutralized. 

And if there was one thing that Two was good at, it was neutralizing her enemies. 

 


	2. There's No Place like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The earliest memory that Seven could remember was of Father staring down at him in a dark room, a bright white light shining from behind him and illuminating his head like a halo. Seven remembers the tightness of the straps holding him down and the cold air of the room. The man's face had been hidden in shadow, glasses reflecting the lights behind him as he reached a hand out to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the longest, I couldn't get this pic to read multi-chapter, but thanks to my amazing editor - nightmara - this story is finally listed the way I wanted it to. 
> 
> Please enjoy and thanks for reading!

 

 

Seven twists close another mason jar, finished pickling peaches for the day as the old clock mounted on the brick wall ticks closer to six. Normally he'd be out in the fields and working up a sweat under the hot rays of the Kansas sun, but with the crops harvested and the fields ready for the long wait for spring, however, all Seven does now is clean up the cellar and prep the jars.

He hated the winter season the most, the days filled with too much free time and not enough work to occupy his mind.

Seven sets the finished jars of fruit on the shelves next to the broken heater, breath misting in the cold cellar before making his way up the narrow stairs with sluggish steps. He could faintly hear Nine going about in the kitchen, no doubt making Mamaw Sybil tea to go with the freshly baked cookies that she had made earlier in the day.

True to word, Nine was placing a thin porcelain cup and saucer, styled with painted flowers, on the lap tray in front of the old woman sitting in the living room armchair. The fourteen-year-old looked up and nodded at Seven, wordlessly turning back to the stove in the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee.

“All done then, boy?” Mamaw Sybil asked, her thin frame covered in heavy wool to fight the cold. Her useless legs were buried under the blankets, but Sybil still didn’t feel warmth until that first sip of tea.

“Great brew, Luna,” Sybil said to the quiet girl at the stove.

Nine smiled, softly answering with a thank you.

“Everything’s set for when Mr. Johnson comes back to the farm, ma’am,” Seven said quietly, grabbing the mug of his coffee — black with no sugar, just how he likes it — from Nine and taking the cookie she offered in her other hand with a thankful nod.

“Good,” Sybil said with a grin. “You can take the rest of the day, Luke. I’ll send Luna after she helps me to bed.”

Seven sent a look to Nine when the older woman wasn’t looking and saw the younger girl give him a responding nod.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mamaw Sybil not to harm Nine, the old woman was kind enough to offer them her kitchen after a hard day’s work despite them being practically strangers. It was just that he didn’t trust anyone at all besides Nine with their safety and well-being.

Sure, the Johnsons had done right by them this past year, but that didn’t mean that Seven was going to let his guard down.

Seven had done too much for it all to go up in flames if he relaxed even for a moment.

The earliest memory that Seven could remember was of Father staring down at him in a dark room, a bright white light shining from behind him and illuminating his head like a halo. Seven remembers the tightness of the straps holding him down and the cold air of the room. The man's face had been hidden in shadow, glasses reflecting the lights behind him as he reached a hand out to him.

Father had touched the ventilator mask covering his entire face, telling him to be a brave boy before leaving the room and closing the door with a heavy click, taking all the warmth with him.

The room had kept getting colder and colder, Seven's panicked breaths misting the plastic of his mask until it became too painful to even breathe. He didn't know why he was there, why the older man wanted him to be brave. All he knew was that didn't want to be tied down. He didn't want to be cold anymore.

White sprays of liquid nitrogen had then erupted all around him, burning his naked small body with horrifying cold and causing him to scream. Seven thought he was going to die from it, his body convulsing from the pain before slowly stilling as his vision dimmed. He hated the cold, was his last clear thought before a heat began to rise through him.

It wasn’t until after, eyes dragging open through ash and seeing the charred walls and broken straps, that Seven realized he had begun to glow brighter and brighter to the point that he caught on fire.

It’s funny, really. Father had looked so proud of him for making his flames. He wasn’t so proud when Seven ended up burning down the entire Lab to the ground years later.

Seven hadn’t planned on escaping, initially. Didn’t even think about anything outside of the Lab in the early years of his 'service'. It was all both he and Nine had ever known. They were raised there, cared for there, taught all that they thought they needed to know there.

They were important to the nation, guardians of the innocent. Father had always said that they were heroes and that the world wasn’t ready for their identities to be revealed.

All lies, Seven had later found out. The places that he had set fire to, the people he killed in the name of justice weren’t evil. They were just people that had wronged Agent Kilmore.

If it wasn’t for Nine and her abilities, they both would never have found out just what they were being used for.

They had been out in the field, Nine cloaking them both so they could escape after he had set fire to a house when they discovered the truth.

Seven had noticed that Kilmore was there as he and Nine neared their extraction point, the man standing next to the van speaking to someone next to him. That in itself wasn't surprising; sometimes the Agent would tag along the missions to oversee Seven and Nine’s performance.

What _was_ surprising was that Father was there. Father _never_ went out on missions with them. He stayed safely at the Lab until they returned for maintenance.

It was odd enough for Seven to stop in his tracks and eavesdrop, squeezing Nine’s hand so that she can keep up her cloaking. It was thanks to their curiosity that Seven learned the truth.

The two men spoke about suspects, planted evidence, cover-ups and opportunities that amounted to a never-ending list of killings. A list that changed like the wind, or whenever Kilmore wanted it to. They spoke about how Seven and Nine, the Assets, were weapons of war that would take care of their enemies; soldiers that would go wherever they were pointed to, no questions asked.

Seven wasn’t a hero. Nine wasn’t a guardian. They were monsters. Freaks. _Murderers_.

Seven waited with a growing rage next to a frozen Nine until they were loaded up into the van. Waited until they were safely inside the garage of the Lab. Waited until Nine stepped down and cloaked herself as she ran for the exit. Waited until he saw her signal that she was far away enough.

Then he burned.

It's been a year after the burning of the Lab and they’ve been running ever since. The guards from the Lab, men who they trained with and done missions with, hunted them down with steady resolves and cold eyes that chilled Seven to the bone.

They had been so close to giving up, Nine unconscious from overusing her power and Seven exhausted from nonstop running when he stumbled upon a farm with fields of corn.

It was only because of the greed of Mr. Johnson that Seven and Nine managed to evade capture.

Gerald Johnson was a pot-bellied man with thinning hair and breath stinking of chaw. Short-tempered with a stubborn attitude, he always was yelling about how them yuppies up North were destroying the heart of the good ol’ US of A. Going on and on about how the city slickers were stepping on the rights of good hardworking people like him, despite leaving all the work for the farmhands hired on his farm to do.

Seven recognized the look in Mr. Johnson’s beady little eyes when they first met, the man with a sneer on his wrinkled face as he glared at the sickly looking Nine and a shaking Seven. It was the same look that Agent Kilmore had when the man looked at them before every mission.

The look of what they could do for him.

It didn’t matter to Mr. Johnson who they were or where they came from, so long as they kept their mouths shut and their hands busy with work.

They complied.

They kept their mouths shut as the fat man showed them the small living space in the loft above the barn, chairs full of rust and blankets moth-eaten. They kept their mouths shut when he showed them where they would eat, a rickety table at the furthest end of the barn, and that they should be grateful that he had taken pity on them. They were paid two dollars an hour and said if he heard even a whisper of griping that he’d call the police to take them off his land.

They said nothing.

Seven understood that they were being taken advantage of. Every time he went into town to buy whatever Mr. Johnson needed or whenever Nine would clean the large house of the Johnson’s every day by herself, the other farmhands would keep on whispering amongst themselves about how awful Mr. Johnson was to the two orphan siblings that knew no better. How it wasn’t right that he'd force them to do so much work for so little pay.

Funny, really, how they were all about talking how it wasn’t right for them to be treated like slaves but none of them ever did anything about it to help them. Seven and Nine learned from their stay on the barn that people liked talking about how things weren’t right in the world, but rarely ever did they do anything to change it.

Even with the unfairness of their new life and the stress of being treated like dogs, Seven and Nine kept their heads down. Mr. Johnson was a greedy little man, but he kept his silence when the suits came to town looking for them. Kept them both hidden away and asked not a damn thing after the men hunting them down described them both as terrorists and enemies of the state.

Mr. Johnson and Seven had an understanding, unspoken but understood anyway. It was Mr. Johnson that had given them the names Luke and Luna after the suits left town empty-handed. It was Mr. Johnson that had made up their story about Seven and Nine being distant relatives from a nonexistent aunt that came to stay with him after her untimely death.

Seven and Nine repaid Mr. Johnson’s kindness, odd and fleeting like lightning, by working hard and not whining about the cheap pay despite the whispers about them and their stupidity.

Walking into the barn, the familiar smell of hay flooding his nose, Seven trudged up the wooden stairs into their loft and let himself fall back onto his mattress on the floor. Even with winter here, the temperatures getting as low as 31 degrees, Seven didn’t feel the cold.

It’s been years since he had learned how to control his fire, using it to adjust his internal body temperature as the seasons changed. The extra blankets that they gained from their work Seven would just pass them on to Nine, who’d take them gratefully.

Lying there, staring up at the wooden beams strewn with cobwebs in quiet thought, Seven wondered if this was what his life was always going to be like from now on.

Was it just going to be about planting and harvesting corn? Keeping his distance from the workers and the Johnsons? Having to withstand the whispers of the townsfolk calling him retarded just because Seven didn’t dare learn how to read and write for fear someone would somehow find out about him and Nine?

Distantly he hears Nine walking up the stairs, singing some melody she heard on the radio as she grabs the blankets and burrows beneath them on her mattress next to him. Listening to her soft voice echoing in the quiet of the barn tells Seven that every single hurt from their new life here was all worth it. It was worth being the town idiot and being alone as he works if it means Kilmore and Father never finding him and Nine. They’ll never be tricked into killing innocent people for the Lab ever again.

“Goodnight, Seven.” Nine whispers as she snuggles down into her covers with a tired sigh.

“‘night, Nine.” Seven whispers back, pushing back his depressing thoughts with a firm shove.

Seven shifts around on his bed and closes his eyes. Tomorrow’s another day, as they say. Maybe it’ll be different from today.

Seven stifles a snort at that thought. The idea of something exciting happening here was as likely as a pig growing wings and flying.

 

* * *

 

The next day was no different. Nor the next, nor the next.

Seven woke up with the shrill sound of the alarm clock shrieking next to him on the floor. Groaning at the harsh wakeup call, he slaps the damn thing off, the shrill noise silent as he struggles to open his eyes. Seven swears he’ll never get used to waking up at the crack of dawn, even with the experience of day-long missions and overnight training. 

“I don’t know why we have to wake up this early if the fat man isn’t even here yet.” Nine grumbles from beneath her pile of covers.

“Come on now, the house won’t clean itself.” Seven yawns out in a sleep gruff voice, cracking in a way that annoyed him to no end.

“Damn that house and to hell with cleaning!” Nine groaned, sounding just like Mr. Johnson’s eldest child Rosie.

“If we hurry up we can go into town and buy chocolate.” Seven bargained as he rolled out of bed and stretched.

Nine peeked a bright blue eye out from her blankets, short blonde hair sticking up in all directions, and eyed Seven suspiciously before giving a great big sigh. “Fine, I’m up.”

Soon the two were finger combing their identical short hair, blonde and black, before pulling on their work boots and climbing down the stairs.

With the fields handled and nothing else to do, Seven follows Nine to the Johnson's house. It was five in the morning, barely enough time to clean the two-story house and air out the rooms before their deadline at noon. By the time they were done the house was smelling of lemon and lavender with no mess in sight as Mr. Johnson’s truck pulls up on the driveway.

Mr. Johnson climbs out and shoots a firm nod at Seven and Nine.

“Off ya get now.” He ordered as his wife Martha walks next to him, chiding Rosie as she chewed her gum obnoxiously before shooting Nine a mean sneer.

Seven nods and tugs a tense Nine away, ignoring the looks from Mrs. Johnson and Rosie with ease. Trudging away side by side, Seven and Nine keep their silence until they can’t see the house behind them anymore.

“Where’d they go again?” Nine asks as she kicks a rock down the dirt road.

“Topeka. The Capital.” Seven answers as he squints from the glare of the bright sun. There were no clouds out today which meant no rain, their loft won't be wet from the leaks of the barn roof.

Nine made a face, “To-Pe-Ka.”

Seven shrugged, eyes already catching sight of the town.

“Luna,” he said, glancing at Nine and seeing her look up from the ground and tense.

“Understood, Luke.” Nine said, eyes tightening in resignation.

Seven and Nine walked into town and immediately felt the eyes of the people on them as was usual. They walked towards the general store as the familiar whispers of the townsfolk reached their ears, ignoring them despite the harshness of their words.

In the parking lot in front of the store was a truck that Seven had never seen before in town, dusty and mud covered from the wheels up. Leavenworth was such a small town, that within the first month of living here Seven had memorized everyone and every single vehicle that resided here.

Trucks and cars came and went through, Seven knew that…but there was something about this truck that was making his gut feel weird.

He must have stared too long because suddenly a sharp pain spread from his gut. “Ow!” Seven grunted, hands coming to hug his stomach.

“You promised chocolate, Luke!” Nine said with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah. I heard you, you demon.” Seven said as he trails after her into the store.

Seven scopes out the store once they walk inside, eyes subtlety combing over every inch and every person for...something. Something about that truck was ringing off an alarm in Seven's head that wouldn't shut up. It was enough for Seven to fall back into his training and search for any hostiles around him and Nine.

He scans the aisles with steady steps as Nine silently falls back behind him, the younger girl recognizing his movements and following procedure as she was trained to. Seven reaches the frozen food section and sees a tall burly man with a beard and a pale long-haired woman. They’re both quietly conversing in too low voices for Seven to hear, their body language tense enough for Seven to feel threatened.

He’s about to grab Nine with a silent signal to evac out the store when the woman turns her head with a snap. Seven stills, locking eyes with the woman. Her eyes are dark and steady against his startled hazel gaze.

Every instinct in him is screaming with awareness. This woman is dangerous and he needs to run, now.

The woman is staring unblinkingly back at him, her long dark hair wild as it spills down her shirt. Seven knew that he had to act like the unsuspecting farm boy that he’s built up for a year now, but try as he might Seven couldn't look away.

This woman was making him feel like he was back in the Lab, strapped down for inspection.

He felt afraid.

“Brother?”

Seven blinks and breaths out a shaky breath through his nose, Nine’s voice bringing him back to the present. He doesn’t take his eyes off the older woman. “Yeah, sis?”

“I got my chocolate, we can go back home now.” Nine tells him quietly, acting the timid younger sister role while not making eye contact with anyone in the store. Her fingers slowly entwine with his in a soft grasp, a slight squeeze to let him know Nine was ready when he was.

Seven hums in acknowledgment, eyes hard on the woman who finally blinks when the burly bearded man touches her shoulder with a worried expression. Seeing her look away, Seven doesn’t waste a second in leaving the store, hauling Nine after him. As he walks down the sidewalk with long strides, Nine jerks to a stop and drags him into an alleyway.  
  
He immediately starts to struggle before he feels lips at his ear.

“Calm down, I’m just giving us some cover.” Nine hisses as she cloaks them both from sight.

Seven shakily breaths out a sigh and drops his head on her bony shoulder, voice resigned, “We gotta go.”

“Who is she?” Nine asks, her voice trembling.

Seven shakes his head, hand tightening with Nine’s before straightening up and walking through the twist and turns of the back alleys. “I don’t know, but she’s dangerous.”

“Do we leave the farm?” Nine asks as they reach the end of town and eat up the distance to the dirt road leading to the Johnson farm in a synchronized jog.

“Tonight. When the Johnson’s are asleep.” Seven answers, voice cracking from both age and fear.

“Where will we go?” Nine whispers as her heart began to beat wildly. She still remembers how hard it was to live day by day when they were on the run. Finding the Johnson farm had been a miracle, she didn’t want to leave it now.

“Topeka. It’s big, we can disappear there.” Seven pants out as they start running once the farm comes into view.

Reaching the farm, Seven doesn’t let go of Nine’s hand until they were inside the barn, both rushing up the stairs and into their loft. The truck that the Johnson’s drove wasn’t in the driveway when they ran past nor where the lights on in the windows.

Good, they don’t have to bother telling Mr. Johnson that they were leaving.

Seven wondered where they all went to for a second before pushing it out of his mind. It was better for them not to be here.

Seven pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and gives it to Nine, her nose dripping with blood before rushing to his bed and shoving it to the side. He moves the loose floorboards and grabs the small dented metal box that he keeps hidden inside. Opening it, he pulls out their savings from their days living on the farm. 

“Shit,” Nine curses so lowly that could have been just one long hiss, “I see dust clouds down the road!”

Seven shoves the money in his pocket and runs across the small space they called home to look out the window, a deep furrow between his brows. How the hell did they find them so quickly?

“You good to go, Nine?” Seven looks over his shoulder at Nine, seeing her big blue eyes hardened with determination.

Nine nods, “Just don’t let go.”

Seven and Nine quickly make their way down the stairs, immediately tangling their hands together. The sky burns orange from the setting sun, shadows appearing on the ground like ghosts as the loud roar of a truck grows closer.

They were out of time.

“Hold on tight.” Nine orders before activating her cloaking and pulling him out the door.

Seven keeps a careful eye of the truck pulling up to the farm, the both of them keeping a soft pace to avoid notice.

The teenager sees the dark-haired woman drop down from the truck with steady booted feet and sees that she isn’t alone. The burly bearded man is with her, not getting out of the truck as he sits behind the wheel with two firm grips on the steer. Two others step out the truck after the woman, a slim redhead who looked hungover and a young brunette with a scar on her face.

“Two klicks till highway.” Nine breaths out, voice so low that he wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t standing right next to her.

There was no way that anyone, except for him, could have heard her. Yet somehow the woman whipped her head in their direction, dark eyes narrowing as her head tilted to the side in concentration. Heart racing, fear beginning to flood his veins, Seven barely dared to breathe.

Had she seen their trail of footsteps? Was it just odd luck that she turned to look at them just as Nine spoke?

Seven leaned in close to Nine, practically glued to her side. It wasn’t until his lips were pressed to her ear that he opened his mouth.

“Run, now," Seven breathed.

As he turned, feeling the rough pull of Nine’s hand on his, Seven caught sight of the woman spinning on her heels and sprinting towards them. Terror squeezing his throat, Seven ran with a wild desire to escape as Nine kept pace next to him.

They raced across the property, past the Johnson house and the barn, before turning tightly to cut through a hidden path through the trees that they had scouted out in the surrounding fields when they had first gotten to the farm.

He didn’t want to look back, knew it was a dumb move when running to survive, but he did it anyway. Seven saw the woman behind them; somehow, she was keeping pace and gaining ground on them with an ease that was unnatural. Seven knew then, with dawning horror, that she’d catch them if they continued like this.

Sending a painful look to the terrified girl next to him, Seven did the only thing he could do.

He wrenched his hand free from Nine’s and came to a halt, her cloaking wearing off and revealing him in the sunlight as he turned to face the blank-faced woman who slowed to a stop.

“Go, I’ll catch up!” Seven yelled as he glared at the other woman with a familiar rising rage.

Nine skidded to a stop and turned to look back with tearful eyes, realization coloring her hidden face. They both knew it was a lie.

“Don’t be an idiot! We can still lose her,” Nine screamed as she cried, her voice sounding like an echo through her cloaking.

Seven didn’t even try to look for her, much as he wanted to. He falls back to his training and shifts his body into a fighting stance.

“Trust me, just go." He calls back, eyes intent on the older woman before him.

Hoping that Nine had listened to him and ran off to safety, Seven focuses on the woman and gives her a fierce glare, “We’re not going back.”

The woman blinks, surprised, before shrugging, blank expression settling into a calm mask. “Okay.”

Seven feels a frown start to grow on his face but keeps his stance ready. “Father sent you?”

A dark look shadows the woman’s face. “I came here to warn you," she says as she shifts her weight, "they’re coming for us.”

“Who’s coming?” Seven asks with a chill running up his spine.

“Brenner, Worthington, Kilmore. All of them.”

Seven’s stance wavers just a bit at the Agent's name. “I don’t believe you.” He hisses as he takes a step back, letting the heat deep in his soul start to grow. It’s been a while since he let it out.

The woman takes a step forward and that’s all it takes in Seven’s eyes.

He feels the welcoming heat scorch through him, his tan skin glowing from his fire and explode out of his body in a roar of flames. Seven catches sight of the woman’s eyes rounding hilariously before a wall of fire raced towards her with a vengeance.

Trying to run was useless, nothing can survive his flames.

Dropping his hands that helped guide the fire, ignoring the black scorch marks on the earth where the woman had been, Seven turns and runs towards the direction of the highway. The cold air tingles his naked body as the ash from his clothes falls away, the smoke filling his nose with the burnt smell of cotton and faux leather. He hopes to hell that Nine saw the smoke from the fire and waited for him to catch up.

The thought is ripped from his mind as a frighteningly strong hand wraps around his wrist and yanks him down with a sharp tug. Seven's shoulder spikes in pain at the harsh pull, being forcibly spun so he falls face first down on the ground, arm held at an uncomfortable angle in the shackling grip.

He is gasping for air before he freezes at the sight of booted feet coming close to his face. Wheezing, he sees the woman, somehow alive, crouch down in order to stare at him with a steady intensity. The sky is purpling as the sun goes down, the light of his fire burning the trees shadowing her face in a way that reminds him of Father.

Suddenly, it was as if he’s back in the Lab again, in the cold room with no strength to move and no escape in sight.

His body jolts up to his feet, shoulder pulsing in pain from breaking out of the woman’s slack hold. Seven feels the heat start to build up beneath his skin with a threatening glow, the air sizzling around him as the woman stands up from her crouch with a grimace. Memories of masked soldiers surrounding him and forcing him to fight back in his training sessions against Nine flood his mind.

Fast and harsh, the quickest way to end the match.

Seven pivots and sends a punishing flaming punch to the woman’s face, hard enough to break a man's jaw and melt his face, only to scream as his knuckles crash against her cheek.

His knees buckle from the pain. It was like hitting an unbreakable steel wall.

“Sorry,” the woman says with a frown, holding onto Seven as his glow fades and he slumps down from his weak knees, “I should've told you not to hit me. Backfires on the assailant.”

He looks up and sees the burns on her face heal themselves, slowly mending the damaged flesh and flaking off to reveal smooth unharmed skin. Seven’s pained pants taper off with a hiss, incredulity marring his young face.

“You couldn’t tell me that before you decided to grab at me?" His voice cracks as he breathes heavily, sending the woman a suspicious glare. "Just who the hell are you?”

"I know you probably won't believe me,” she says while ignoring the angry glare from the naked boy leaning on her, “but I’m here to help you.”

“You’re right, I _don’t_ believe you.” Seven hisses.

The woman clicks her tongue with an annoyed look and lets him go. Seven watches warily as the woman yanks up the left sleeve of her jacket and thrust her forearm at him.

Seven gives her a distrustful look but complies with her unsaid request. He glances at her arm before stilling in shock.

Just like him and Nine, there are numbers on her skin.

**002**

Seven stares, mouth agape before slowly looking up at her with wide astonished eyes. 

“My name is Two," the woman—no, Subject Two introduces solemnly. "I'm here to help you both stay alive. The Director sent out a capture order to the Labs for all of us. If they can’t catch us before the shut down on the program is complete, then a kill on sight order will come into effect.”

Two watches as the boy, younger than even Six, reaches out with a shaky hand and touches her mark with his fingertips. The touch is a warm as a steaming cup of coffee.

“I thought,” Seven says weakly, blinking rapidly as his eyes sting with tears, “that we were the only ones. How…?” He feels the scarred skin, just like his own, and senses his entire world shake at the revelation.

He and Nine weren't the only ones in the world. They weren’t alone.

His eyes sting and his vision wavers, but Seven pushes it all back. Tears had never done him any good, not then and not now.

“Honestly,” Two starts with a slow sigh, “I have no idea how many more of us are out there. All we know is that the order came down not too long ago. That they were going to start here. That’s why we came, to help you get away.”

“And go where? Shit, Nine!” Seven shouts as he turns to look at the darkening horizon, eyes searching frantically as his heart clenches.

Nine could be anywhere by now, could have reached the highway and gone beyond his reach with how long he's been here with Two. A sudden overwhelming panic starts to take a hold of him, heavy hopelessness bearing down his shoulders. He and Nine had never been separated before in their entire lives, not like this with no idea if they would see each other ever again.

There wasn’t a time that Seven can remember not having Nine by his side.

“I can track her.” Two says with a focused look to the horizon. “As for where you can go, you can join us.”

Seven hesitates, looking out wildly at the growing shadows of dusk, before closing his eyes tightly shut.

“You were at a Lab?” He asks quietly.

Two’s face shutters closed. “Yeah.”

“You have a Father?” Seven asks, turning to give her a calculating look.

Two stays silent, throat working with the force of pushing down her rage. Seven recognizes the emotion with an empathetic twinge of his heart.

“I had a Sir. One had a Papa.”

“One?” Seven asks curiously.

“He’s dead now. His Papa killed him. I escaped not too long after, taking Three and Six with me.” Two says with a coldness that burns just as fiercely as Seven's fire.

“What about Four and Five?” The young teen asks with a worried frown.

Two looks at him with sad eyes and shakes her head.

Seven closes his eyes and nods.

This might all be a huge mistake, but Seven doesn’t have many other options. There was Subject Two who could stop him dead in his tracks with a simple grab of his wrist. Sure, Seven could try and burn her out; there was only so much heat — even enhanced as she obviously is — that Two can handle. Seven's priority at the moment, however, was getting back with Nine.

That was another thing; Nine couldn’t keep up her cloaking non-stop, she is going to eventually have to rest. When that happens, Two can search for her and bring her back to him. The older Subject had already proven that she could track a cloaked Nine just fine.

Seven just hoped that he was doing the right thing, making the right choice for him and Nine.

“This is messed up.” A soft voice called out from seemingly nowhere.

Seven and Two both twitch in surprise, turning in tandem to watch the small form of Nine appear into view.

“Nine!” Seven calls out with relief, hurrying towards her and dragging her into a hug. “You heard everything?”

Nine nods as she hugs him back tightly before turning to look at Two, dual dark drying trails of blood running down from her nose. “Are they really coming after us?”  

Two nods. “We need to leave Kansas.”

Nine shakes her head. “How do you know all that? Unless you’re working for them.”

Two snarls dangerously, Seven tensing next to Nine at the sound. “I’ll never work for them again.”

“Then how—”

“Because of me.”

Seven and Nine both look behind Two and see the redhead from the truck cresting the hill, sleeves shoved up to leave his forearms bare to the cold night air. The two young teenagers glance at the skin on his left arm and relax at the numbers marked on the skin.

**003**

“That’s Three,” Two introduces as the lanky man reaches them and waves hello. “This is Seven and Nine.”

Seven doesn’t bother with manners. “How?”

Three sighs, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. “If I concentrate hard enough, I can lock onto someone and see a brief glimpse of the future.”

Seven frowns, sharing an uneasy look with Nine.

“That’s how I knew about the kill order, knew where to go for us to find you.” Three says pointedly with a raised brow.

“So what do we do now?” Nine asks, running a hand through her short blonde locks.

“How much time do we have? How do we get them to stop hunting us?” Seven asks, looking at Two demandingly.

Just then, the brunette with the scar and the burly man from the store join them as they both jog to a stop next to Three and Two. The girl bares her naked arm with an impatient look on her face.

The vivid mark of **006** is stark against her skin.

“Face it, Two. We’re gonna to have to go to the Lab just like I said.” Six said with a frown before looking at the young teens in front of them, both with hair barely growing from the buzz cuts that seemed to be a signature look of the Subjects. “Christ, you guys are young.” She says with surprise. The burly man next to her looks at them both with devastated eyes.

Two sighs with a small frown. “We’re not going to the Labs, Six. We have all the information we need from Three.”

“Three can look ahead all the livelong day, but we need more concrete information in order to beat them once and for all.” Six then whirls around to face Two when she hears the older woman start to protest. “No, Two! I’m done arguing with about this, alright? I was trained for this! Trained to collect data, trained to be a goddamn _spy._ I know what the hell I’m talking about!”

Two shakes her head with a firm look. “It’s too dangerous.”

“When d‘you get so damn chicken?” Six accuses with a mean look in her eyes.

Three shoots an angry look at the back of her head but keeps his mouth shut, turning to glare at the smoking trees. He didn’t want to get involved in another one of their arguments again, much as he wanted to settle it.

Seven sees this and eyes Six with caution, Nine next to him copying him.

“Whoa, now.” The burly man with a frown growing on his face interrupts as he steps in front of a stone-faced Two. “That's uncalled for, Six. You have no idea what Two had to do for—”

“Jerry.” Two cuts in abruptly, dark eyes sharp on her fair face.

Seven stares at them all with a confused look on his face, wondering what the heck is even happening when Nine steps up with a severe look on her pixie-like features.

“We’re wasting time. If what you're saying is true then we have no other choice but to join you.” Nine says firmly.

The adults quiet down at the younger girl’s words, Jerry with a pinched look on his face while Two and Three glances at her with expecting eyes. Six crosses her arm and looks back at her with a frown.

“You already know what I can do. I can take one person with me, in and out. Seeing as you said that you’re trained for spying, that leaves only one problem…” Nine tells them as she stares at the other girl without blinking.

“And that is?” Six asks in a sulk.

“I burned down the Lab.” Seven says with a cocky grin. Nine smiles at the look of outrage on Six's face.

“Great.” Three says with a sigh.

Jerry ignores them and steps towards Seven with a kind smile, taking off his coat with small unthreatening movements.

“Here ya go, little guy.” He says softly as he hands his coat over to the naked boy.

Seven frowns, glancing at the coat with a confused look and shots him a suspicious glare. “I’m not little. Why are you giving me this?”

Six rolls her eyes, the outrage from her foiled plan replaced with exasperation. “No one wants to see your junk, kid.”

Nine blinks, confused. “Junk?”

Three shakes his head and walks towards the young girl, ignoring Jerry’s slow struggle in explaining his actions towards a glaring Seven. The redhead shakes a bottle of aspirin from his jacket at Nine.

“Take one, you look ready to drop.” Three says lowly as Two steps forward to force the coat onto a protesting Seven, Jerry covering his face at the scene as Six laughs at him.

“What does it do?” Nine asks, grabbing the bottle and looking at the small letters in interest.

“Pain reliever.” Three explains as he observes the younger Subject with keen eyes. “Guessing you don’t know how to read, then.”

Nine shakes her head no as she opens the bottle with swift fingers, dry swallowing one pill.

Three snorts and looks up at the small stars slowly glittering into the night sky.

“If it ain’t one thing, it's another.” Three says, pale blue eyes lost in thought on the journey ahead.

 

 


	3. The Man they call Bloodhound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helms should have taken his advice of terminating all of the Assets created from the experiments years ago when the first Subjects escaped. But no, Mathers, Stone, Blackmore, and that lunatic Brenner just had to cause a ruckus over their precious creations. Treating them like prized possessions and not the loose cannons they truly are.
> 
> And now here they are, just like he had predicted in Helms office all those years ago. In the thick of a giant crisis, the risk of exposure and general chaos from the people if everything were to be brought to light; and it was all due to those so-called ‘geniuses’ damn negligence from refusing to listen to reason.
> 
> And just who is it that’s assigned to oversee them and clean up this damn mess? He was.
> 
> Sometimes, Charles felt like less of an Agent and more of a glorified babysitter for a group of idiots that have access to government secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, Nightmara, for helping me clean this chapter up. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

 

 

Special Agent Charles Kilmore looked around the hastily built base of operations with a disdainful sneer.

Unbelievable that Blackmore managed to let two teenagers get away with burning down years of research and government property all in one night. Charles almost hopes that when they capture them, and they _will_ if he has anything to say about it, the two Assets put up a fight so that they could be put down for all the trouble they caused. Useful abilities or not, this betrayal against their handlers was enough for Charles to anticipate ordering their termination.

Losing Subject Nine will be a massive blow, considering her unique ability, but he has no issue getting rid of Subject Seven; annoying brat that he was.

Surely the brass doesn't need such a volatile experiment back in their main facility?

“Ah, Agent Kilmore. Long time no see.” The soft mousy voice of Dr. George Blackmore greeted from further down the field, his glasses glinting from the sunlight.

“Sooner than I would've liked, Doctor,” Charles said with a sniff before giving the portly scientist an annoyed once-over, “let’s get this over with.”

He wanted out of this bum state as soon as humanly possible.

Helms should have taken his advice of terminating all of the Assets created from the experiments years ago when the first Subjects escaped. But no, Mathers, Stone, Blackmore, and that lunatic Brenner just _had_ to cause a ruckus over their precious creations. Treating them like prized possessions and not the loose cannons they truly are.

And now here they are, just like he had predicted in Helms office all those years ago. In the thick of a giant crisis, the risk of exposure and general chaos from the people if everything were to be brought to light; and it was all due to those so-called ‘geniuses’ damn negligence from refusing to listen to reason.

And just who is it that’s assigned to oversee them and clean up this damn mess? He was.

Sometimes, Charles felt like less of an Agent and more of a glorified babysitter for a group of idiots that have access to government secrets.

George Blackmore stood with a composed expression until the tall Agent walked passed him with an air of superiority set on his muscled shoulders, letting the look of contempt unfurl on his round face as he glares at the back of Kilmore's blue-suited form. Limping after the Agent through the maze of portable offices, having to resort to the less than wanted structures after the incident with Subjects’ Seven and Nine, George wanted nothing more than to hit the man.

Yards away, through the thin trees and past the blackened concrete, remains what's left of the devastation of the Delaware Lab from Subject Seven's scorching fire.

Just remembering that chaotic night made George’s stomach turn. All his years of hard work, of creating a bond with Seven and Nine and cultivating their unfaltering loyalty, and for what? For it all to go up in literal flames.

George’s right leg throbbed, the scars from having escaped the burning building flaring up as though to remind him of his colossal failure. He should have never listened to Brenner’s advice, should've listened to Mathers and instilled a greater sense of authority over the two children instead.

George looks around at the wide field jumbled with exhausted lab technicians, scurrying from place to place, and to the healed burnt soldiers brimming with agitated rageful energy. This was all that remained of the highest success rating lab produced from Project MKUltra.

What a waste.

At least he can say that he wasn’t the only one with experiments that escaped, nor was he the first. George had to wonder just how dumbstruck Mathers had looked when his prized Subject Two systematically cut a blood-soaked path through the small army at the Beowawe Lab, taking Subjects' Three and Six with her after she'd all but destroyed the facility with her bare hands.

What a nightmare that had been.

The CIA Director Thomas Helms _himself_ , along with a furious General Stanley Worthington- with his small but deadly entourage of Special Forces, had come down from their gilded offices to tear into both Richard Mathers and Kimberly Stone, the Senior Scientist responsible for Subject Three.

The Great Escape, as George liked to call it, had the labs in both Hawkins and Delaware go into complete lockdown for months — no one in or out. All personnel needing clearance before entering the different levels of the facilities. The remaining Subjects were all locked in their reinforced cells, isolated for weeks on end until the all-clear was given.

George had later found out, through the grapevine of the lab techs, that Mathers' Asset had snapped with the death of Brenner's Subject One.

Subject Two, it was later discovered through the backup security tapes, had convinced Subject Three in using his abilities to map out the schedules of the soldiers guarding their cell block. Not only that, she also had convinced the boy to map out the schedule of the guards patrolling the halls of the Beowawe Lab.

Once she got Subject Six to use her abilities to steal the security cards...that was the beginning of the end.

After Subject Six unlocked the cell doors, it had been pathetically easy for Mathers' Monster to kill everyone that crossed her path. Afterward, once the screaming had stopped and all that remained was the echoing silence of the once bustling halls, the final death toll was so high that the Director had demoted both Mathers and Stone down to the Basement. Both only Senior Scientists in name since they couldn’t be fired.

Worthington still, to this day, curses Mathers with a fervor for allowing such an excellent weapon escape the military’s grasp.

With Subjects' Seven and Nine escaping last year, followed recently by that damning exposé in Hawkins, it spelled the end of the whole damn operation. That exposé had been the proverbial nail in the coffin. Director Helms had come down from the shadows in a fury, General Worthington starting to gather his pack of lethal soldiers and to make matters worse the distasteful Agent Kilmore was here; taking the reins of what's left of the Delaware Lab.

All of them rushing to obtain the elusive fruits of Project MKUltra's labor before it was shut down for good.

He should have just stayed in Colorado and worked with a regular pharmaceutical company instead. It certainly would’ve saved him the trouble and the resulting trauma. With that thought, George followed the Agent into the main portable office in the center of their base of operations — _his_ office— and closed the door behind him.

Charles sat down on the comfy leather desk chair, clearly Blackmore’s, and waved his hand for the scientist to sit on the less comfortable looking seat on the other side of the man's desk. “Now then, have you been putting any effort in finding Subjects' Seven and Nine?”

George let his distaste show then, “Of course I have. Ever since the lab burned down, I've had my men scour the region. Going door to door, tapping into phone lines and tailing potential suspects. We haven’t found a damn thing!” Really, the insult of not knowing how to do his own job was too much for his pride to take.

Charles watched the balding scientist with an unimpressed look, not roused at all at by the other man’s ire. “So you've found nothing,” Charles commented with a raised brow, “thought so."

The Agent ignores the frustrated look coming from the Senior Scientist across from him, giving the older man a stern look. "Here’s what’s going to happen, Blackmore. I’m not going to bother in refreshing your memory on the Director's orders, I’m sure a smart man like you is able to remember.” Charles raises a questioning dark brow at the bespectacled man and sees the fat man give a stiff nod. “What I _am_ going to tell you is that I’ve been made the lead on this operation. No one moves without my permission, not even you. I point and you go.”

He leans back on the supple leather chair, making a small noise of appreciation at the good quality whilst crossing his legs and folding his hands atop his abdomen. “My men are going to come in tomorrow and go through all the data you've managed to salvage from last years’ mess. I want complete cooperation. After that, we’ll hunt those two little freaks down and remind them who’s boss.”

George could hear the dark excitement in the Agent’s voice in capturing Seven and Nine. Knew that the younger man would rather kill them both like they were pests rather than try to recapture them. The knowledge causes his right leg to throb in agreement.

“Subject Seven was stronger than we had anticipated. As for Subject Nine—”

Charles cuts him off with an impatient wave of his hand,  “Don’t you worry about that, Doctor, I’ve got it handled. I haven’t been idle back in headquarters. I’ve been researching your little science projects, you see. I’ll have them all collared and tamed before you know it.” Charles says arrogantly, not seeing the unconfident look on Blackmore’s face.

A glance at the gold wristwatch peeking from his suit sleeve causes a frown to appear on the Agent's face.

“Where’s the closest semblance of civilization in this ghost town? I need my morning coffee.”

“Tonganoxie. About 18 miles out or so.” George answered, a migraine slowly starting to make itself known.

Charles stood from his seat and walked to the door, pausing to shot an impatient sneer at the still seated Blackmore. “Up to it, Doctor. The truck isn’t going to drive itself.”

He leaves the man in the office and steps out into the bright sun of Kansas. Charles shields his eyes from the light, cursing at himself for leaving his sunglasses back in HQ. “God, what a wretched place,” he muttered with a squinted glare at the sky before making his way down the metal stairs.

Inside the office, George rolls his eyes and reluctantly stands, grabbing his coat and following the Agent outside.

The walk towards the government issued truck, past the field of office trailers, is filled with low cursing at the cold weather from the Agent, Blackmore glaring sullenly at the ground as he silently follows behind. The heat is turned on immediately once they’re both inside and the engine turned on. The scientist drives out of the makeshift lot and towards the empty roadway out of the woods.

Leaning back into the firm seat, Charles stares out the window content in letting the silence ring loud as they drive down the lonely path and into the Hicksville town.

God, but he hated the Corn Belt of American.

Soon enough the scientist pulls into the small parking lot of a has-been diner, the red brick worn looking and sand dust clinging to the edges of the large stained glass windows. Charles is slightly disgusted at the sight of it but keeps his silence as he steps out of the vehicle and slams the door shut. He doesn't wait for Blackmore as he strides purposefully into the lackluster establishment, taking in the fading red faux leather seats and silver counter tops with a faint sneer.

A flicker from the edge of his vision has him turning with narrowing eyes. Focusing on the back of the diner, the Agent sees a group of four seated closely together in the booth furthest from the entrance. Good vantage point, he would have picked it for himself had the space been empty.

A shaggy-haired redhead, a punk wannabe, no doubt, sat with his back towards Charles, leather jacket-clad shoulders tense and slightly hitched upwards. A brunette with a sloppy ponytail sat next to him in a lazy slump. Facing him was a brawny bearded man wearing a weathered cowboy hat, a muscled arm laying across the shoulders of the dark-haired woman next to him. The woman, Charles noted with slight confusion and annoyance, was staring at him with heavy intensity.

Charles stares back at her, noting her full lips and pale complexion before the cowboy next to her leans close and presses a loving kiss to her temple.

Urgh, sentiment.

The Agent looks away with a small sniff, already losing interest.

A waitress walks up with a beaming smile on her plain face.

“Hiya! Counter or a booth?” The teenager asks with pep.

“Booth,” Charles says as Blackmore finally joins him inside with a hurried limp. Following after the teen Charles slid into the chosen booth, facing the dark-eyed woman further down the diner. He watches her eat a large stack of pancakes, focusing on the sight of her tongue peeking from her lips as he accepts the menu from the waitress.

"What can I get y'all to drink?"

“Coffee.”

“Alrighty! And for you, sir?”

“Tea, thank you,” George answers absentmindedly, eyes already on the plastic menu.

Charles opinion of the man fell even further. What kind of man drank tea? No wonder his lab burned to the ground. Glancing over the loaded menu, Charles quickly chose his meal and ready to order when the girl returned with their drinks.

“Ready or do y’all need a few more minutes to decide?”

Charles smiled politely, handing over his menu, “Pancakes and eggs with a side of bacon, extra crispy.”

June, the waitress, pulls out her pad and pen and writes down the order of the handsome salt and pepper haired man. “How would you like your eggs?”

“Sunnyside up,” Charles said before taking a drink his black coffee.

“And you sir?” June asked the bald man who had a rather mousy look about him.

“The Cobb salad. Dressing on the side, please.”

Charles scoffed quietly, looking at the Senior Scientist over the brim of his mug with disgust. A goddamn salad. Jesus Christ.

The wait for their food is filled with stern silence, the waitress soon returning with both plates and leaving them with a cheerful wink. Only when the girl walks towards the group of four further down the diner did Charles begin to talk shop.

“When was the last time your men came into town to look for them?” Charles asks as he cuts into his buttered pancakes.

“Half a year ago,” George says before taking a bite of his salad.

Charles chews, staring blankly at the fat scientist and watching him twitch with discomfort. Swallowing, he points his fork firmly at Blackmore, dark eyes glinting with conviction. “And that right there is why I'm in charge of this op. Half a year? My God, it’s like you left the door wide open for those two lab rats to just waltz right out.”

George gripped his fork tight. “We checked everyone in town. There is nothing here that gives evidence that they—”

“They're trained to _avoid_ detection, Blackmore,” Charles said slowly as if he were talking to a child, “I remember their success rate on the missions we sent them on. Do you really think that they couldn’t have given the slip to your men? To you?”

George sipped his hot cup of tea, migraine pounding at the base of his skull.

“Clearly, they’ve outsmarted you. They made fools of you, of Worthington, of _me_ ,” Charles says lowly as he cut into his food, “and then that mess in Indiana certainly didn’t make things better.” He said finishing his pancakes and starting on his eggs. “I warned them back at headquarters that leaving the business to you eggheads was a bad idea. I can’t believe that it took the heavy loss of all of our property for the Director to do what he should have done years ago.” Fork cutting into the yolk, watching it run, Charles shrugged. “No use in crying over spilled milk. I’m here now, cleaning up your mess and as God as my witness, I will succeed.” At this Charles looks up from his plate, dark eyes blazing coldly at Blackmore.

George swallows nervously, speechless in the face of the sheer confidence of the Agent. He held the man’s stare a second longer before lowering his gaze, “...We followed every precaution that you and the Head of Security put down. Maybe it’s not us _eggheads_ that failed, but rather the system.”

Charles chuckles meanly, “Careful, Georgie. Reach too far and you’ll get burned... _again_.”

George says nothing, eyes stuck on his dwindling salad.

Charles finishes his plate, looking up to catch the waitress’ attention for a refill. Black coffee topping his cup again, Charles looks up and sees that only the cowboy and the woman were left in the booth. He eyes them with bored curiously, watching as they pulled money together to settle the bill.

“The real problem is not tracking down the latest missing properties,” Charles said, eyes on the woman’s dark hair shining with the sunlight. Turning back to Blackmore, Charles gave the man a grave look. “It’s finding the second product. That one is proving to be difficult.”

“Why?” George asked, pushing his unfinished plate aside.

Charles rolled his eyes, “Jesus, and they say you’re a genius.”

He puts his mug down and leans forward, elbows firm on the silver tabletop, “ _Because_ , Doctor, of all the gizmos the Project has produced, it’s the second one that the brass has a vested interest in getting back. It’s the best suited for combat, after all.”

“That trail has gone cold for years now. They lost whatever tracks they had on it,” George points out. “Might be that we’ll never find it again.”

Charles gives him an arrogant smirk, “You think too small, Blackmore. It’s why you’re not in charge. Hell, it’s why none of you are in charge. You nerds don’t know the meaning of perseverance. I will not stop until I have them all back in hand. Dead _or_ alive.”

The sound of a bell chiming echoed after his words. Glancing away from the pathetic man, Charles half-heartedly noticed that the woman had left with the brawny cowboy.

Shame, Charles thought, the woman had been nice to look at. Certainly better than the jowl faced Blackmore and his round gold-rimmed smudged glasses.

 

* * *

 

A few days in the ghost town that Blackmore had set up shop in were enough to drive Charles insane. The dry air, the weird hot and cold temperature drops, the dirt everywhere, and the sheer damn excess of damn plaid flannel. Charles is counting down to the very last second until he finds the lab freaks before booking it out of this hellhole.

As he had promised Blackmore in the diner, a large caravan of black armored vans had come driving into the scattered network of portable offices that remained of the Delaware Lab. Charles had overseen them as they swooped in and took charge of the files that the Senior Scientist had managed to save and collect, establishing the new chain of command with both the frazzled lab techs and the damaged soldiers.

Like clockwork, he had his men canvassing the surrounding area near the burnt down Lab as well as the towns the two runaway Subjects could have gone to. Nothing concrete had been found, but his men had brought back some rumors of two odd-looking siblings sighted around a nearby town not that long ago.

Charles felt he was closer to victory.

The Agent was currently watching the colorful sunset, thinking on how much progress he’s made so far. The progress report he gave to the Director had been more promising with the new lead on Subjects’ Seven and Nine his men had given him three days ago; further investigation showing a high chance of the two posing as siblings in one of the isolated farms in the county of Leavenworth.

When asked of the status on the search for the AWOL Subject Two, Charles was less than pleased to say that they had nothing to offer in intelligence. Mathers did too good of a job in teaching the weapon at how to successfully disappear in preparation for future missions overseas, much as it was biting them in the ass now.

The closest they had in catching a glimpse of the missing juggernaut was right after the Beowawe Lab Massacre. A choppy message a sentinel in the small city of Carlin had sent, describing a girl with a shaved head and bloodied hands before the message had cut off with a scream. By the time the heavily armored soldiers had arrived, whatever chance they had for recapture was gone. What they found instead was the gory mess that remained of the sentinel, making it impossible to find any clues to where the Subject could have escaped to.

Years have passed and not a single sighting has been reported, and they had been looking. With the promise of having a super soldier, General Worthington had practically threatened the entire department to a fate worse than death if they didn’t use all their resources in locating Subject Two.

Charles' search will be the last effort to bringing it in alive.

Shaking his head free from the memories, the Agent noticed a figure in the distance near the thin trees. Tilting his head, eyes narrowing, Charles was left wondering who the hell was taking a damn stroll when there was work to be done. As the figure came stalking forward closer and closer at a steady pace, Charles' lips tightened as an inkling of suspicion started to grow from the depth of his gut.

The kaleidoscopic sky started bleeding out and morphing into one long canvas of darkness, with only the heavy full moon and stars offering light.  Charles kept his eyes on the moving figure as he slowly reached for the HT at his waist and clicks it on.

“This is Kilmore, suspected intruder sighted east off the main dirt road. Anyone got eyes on them? Over.” Charles said firmly, eyes straining to make out the features of the intruder.

" _Copy, I’ve got eyes on the suspect. Sole female, dark hair. No visible weapons. Permission to engage, Over_.”

The grainy response sends memories of the Carlin transmission flashing in his mind. Charles stares at the figure further down the field, his suspicion sparking from an ember to a flame.

“It can’t be...” Charles says in with slow realization.

He raises the HT to his mouth and breathes in a steady breath before opening his channel. “All combat units converge on the suspect. The suspect is to be considered highly dangerous, lethal force is permissible if needed. Gentlemen, I think we’re dealing with the infamous Subject Two, Over.” Charles said with a fixed gaze on the woman, a slow smirk appearing on his face as the rush of adrenaline began to flood his veins.

This is his chance and he is not going to throw it away.

The HT crackles to life, breaking him out of his haze. “ _Blackmore here, if this is Subject Two then she mustn’t be alone. Keep eyes open for anyone not in uniform, Over_.”

God dammit, the egghead was right. Charles pressed his lips together, wondering for the first time just how in the hell Subject Two found out that they would be here.

Cursing from a sudden epiphany, Charles pulls up the HT. “Subject Three has to be nearby! All other units sweep the area, he can’t be far, Over!”

If they played this right, the Agent thought with hurried breaths and a quickening pulse, then he would have Subjects' Two and Three in hand by sunrise.

Charles could make out the dark silhouettes of the heavily armed soldiers making their way to where the suspect was striding closer to the base. Squinting through the darkness of the night, Charles' heart froze in shock when he finally made out the features of the intruder.

It was the woman from the diner.

Feeling his mouth hang open, Charles watched with wide eyes as Subject Two takes a bullet to the shoulder as if it were a raindrop before starting to run towards his armed men. Hand tightening with a white-knuckled grip on the military grade HT, Charles watches as Subject Two shows just how she managed to escape with two others from the fortress that was the Beowawe Lab.

Mathers' Monster was a beast of violence, lightning quick movements and an unstoppable force beneath its slim form. There was a blankness on the Subject's face that made Charles take a step back instinctively.

The Agent flinches at the near deafening sounds of gunfire and screams, the bursts of light from the multiple discharges painting a bone-chilling picture of Subject Two. He watches as she breaks a soldier's arm with a simple twist of her wrist, snapping the neck of another with an effortless tug, using the downed bodies on the ground as meat shields to avoid the slew of flying bullets and throwing them back at his panicked men before rushing in for the kill.

Charles watches all of it with fear glazed eyes and hunched shoulders, a shake starting in his hands as he is faced with his own mortality for the very first time. He might very well die here.

A hot swirl of anger starts to burn in his chest, making him lift his chin up high and stubbornly squaring his shoulders as he glares out at the mess of bodies of his dwindling men. Charles did not rise to his rank by letting things stand in his way, by letting obstacles stop him from achieving his goals of respect and glory.

And that's exactly what this new development is; an obstacle for him to survive and conquer.

Clenching his shaking hands into firm fists, Special Agent Kilmore leaves the safety of the shadows to head towards the Intel safe hidden within Blackmore's office. Opening the safe under the desk, he begins to stuff all the important documents of classified information of the experiments done in the dead Delaware Lab, as well as intel on the other Labs into a nearby briefcase before ripping the leftover papers into unreadable strips. He coldly ignores the terrified screams of the awakening lab technicians and the roar of gunfire as he leaves the trailer and makes his way towards the reserved getaway civilian trucks at the opposite end of the base.

The grip on both the briefcase and the gun he managed to grab off the bloodied ground was tight.

Once reaching the truck, he didn't waste time in smashing the butt of his gun through the window. The Agent threw the briefcase in and reluctantly set the weapon on the seat cushion with a clenched jaw. Pulling out a knife that he kept hidden at his lower back, Kilmore pops off the cover of the wheel with a snarl and got to work.

He could feel sweat gathering at his temples as the sound of gunfire would stop before starting up again, the high-pitched screams of fear now gone and replaced with yells of desperate anger. The air was stinking of death, getting stuck in his nose and turning Kilmore's stomach.

Breathing out a sigh of relief when the truck roars to life, the Agent rushes in and slams the door closed before taking the truck off Park and speeding off. He doesn't care that he was dooming his men to die, doesn't care that Dr. George Blackmore was very likely still on site and soon to be defenseless.

All that was prioritized in Kilmore's mind was that he needs to call Director Helms. He needs to call General Worthington and needs to call all the remaining Senior Scientists left in the dying Project.

Most importantly, Kilmore thinks as the sounds of death fades from the silence of the woods, he needs to get to Indiana and get Brenner out.

 

 


End file.
